


Losing Feeling

by Dontknowmyname



Series: Bad Things Happen Bingo [3]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: Hurt Sam Winchester, Jealous Dean Winchester, M/M, Possible medical inaccuracies, Protective Dean Winchester, Sam Winchester Whump, Wincest - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-01
Updated: 2020-05-23
Packaged: 2021-03-01 16:35:06
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 2
Words: 3,610
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23940157
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Dontknowmyname/pseuds/Dontknowmyname
Summary: Dean didn’t like where that bastard’s hands were and he really didn’t like where the knife ended up.
Relationships: Dean Winchester/Sam Winchester
Series: Bad Things Happen Bingo [3]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1645345
Comments: 13
Kudos: 93





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This fills the “Nerve damage” square. Thank you, Thesabotagedandovershadowed, for your request and the kind words! I hope you enjoy this. I also have to shout out my better half, Aihoshiduo, for reading this a zillion times and helping me work out a few kinks. 

The bar was dark. Two pool tables in the back and a line of bar stools against the wall, each with their own unique rips and tears. It certainly wasn’t the cleanest of places, but the beer was cheap and it wasn’t too far from the bunker. Surprisingly it had been Sam’s idea to get out and have a few drinks, and Dean wasn’t one to turn that kind of offer down. 

They found a table off to the side and sat down to take in the sights. It wasn’t a crowded place, maybe 10 or 15 people at the most. There were two grisly looking biker types in the back, bantering over a game of pool and Dean couldn’t help but chuckle as he watched them play. They obviously thought they were really good, but Dean has seen wasted frat boys play better than them.

“Hey, Sammy,” He waited until Sam looked up before he nodded toward the two men and then continued, “I bet you could take those two back there.”

Sam’s eyes went wide, “What’s that supposed to mean?”

“At pool,” Dean raised an eyebrow and smiled. “What the hell were you thinking?”

“Forget it.” The blush on Sam’s cheeks was enough to have Dean squirming in his own seat. 

Sam began picking at the label on his bottle as he watched the game and Dean tapped his ring to the beat of whatever song was playing at the moment. Neither of them said a word for quite some time. That was until one of those surly bikers caught Sam watching them and began approaching their table. Dean side eyed the guy while Sam sat up straight with that friendly smile of his. 

“Can we help you?” Dean may not have been the friendliest, but he found it rather rude that the older man didn’t even acknowledge him. Even more concerning was how focused he was on Sam. 

“Care for a game of pool?” The man extended the pool cue toward Sam who looked at Dean as if waiting for his approval. “I’ll buy you a drink if you say yes.”

Dean rolled his eyes. “We’re not interested.”

“I wasn’t asking you.” For the first time, the man turned toward Dean with a glare that would probably intimidate lesser men. It did nothing but anger Dean Winchester though. 

“Excuse me?” Dean pushed his chair back and jumped to his feet, ready to rush at the asshole in front of him. A hand grabbed his arm, effectively stopping him from making a move. 

He looked down at the hand and then followed the long muscular arm up to that irritatingly charming face. The power Sam had over him just wasn’t fair. He practically growled, but backed down and took his seat again. Sam, the cocky bastard that he is, smiled as he stood and patted Dean’s shoulder. 

“You’ve got yourself a game.” And with that, Sam took the pool cue from the asshole and followed him to the table. 

Dean grabbed his beer and chugged the rest of it as he glared at his brother and the sleaze ball next to him. Years ago it bothered him when someone would assume he and Sam were a couple, and now it aggravated the hell out of him when someone didn’t immediately understand that Sam was his. 

Despite his anger, he politely thanked the bartender and laid the charm on thick as she leaned over, big breasts and all, to replace his beer. Of course when he did it, Sam wasn’t even watching. Instead, he was chalking up his cue and eyeing up his shot. 

Dean watched as Sam bent over, putting on a show that Dean would have enjoyed any other day. Today, not so much. He especially didn’t like the way that scumbag was watching Sam, licking his lips with a creepy ass smile the entire time. 

As he observed, he realized that Sam had no idea how to play a regular game of pool. They didn’t come here to hustle, didn’t exactly need to at the moment, but Sam was still purposely missing easy shots and playing as though he was a novice. 

It was all well and good until Mr. Skeeze thought it was a good idea to give Sam a few pointers. Dean had already been moving closer, keeping his eye on Sam the entire time. Against his better judgement, Dean let it go at first. Even if he gripped his bottle so hard that he heard it start to crack. 

Sam laughed awkwardly, but Dean could see that even he wasn’t so sure about what was going on at the moment. Honestly, it served him right, but it went against every instinct Dean had to let this go any further. 

“Back the fuck up.” Dean slammed his beer down on the edge of the pool table and glared at the asshat behind Sam.

The douche was startled enough to remove his hands and take a few steps back, but he certainly didn’t seem intimidated by Dean. In fact, he had the nerve to return his hand to Sam’s lower back and laugh.

“We’re just having a good time, right?” 

Dean was pretty sure that was the last straw, but watching the prick’s hand make its way toward Sam’s ass ignited a fury even he was afraid of. In less than a second, Dean rounded the table and his fist connected with flesh. He heard Sam shout his name, but he was too far gone.

It was a pretty unfair fight, but Dean couldn’t bring himself to care. This disgusting piece of shit put his hands on Sam and he was going to feel the consequences. Dean would make sure he felt them for days. That every time this dick moved he remembered why his hands should never be anywhere near Sam.

“Dean!”

His hand stopped mid punch and he dropped the lax body like a sack of potatoes. He instantly went from angry to worried as soon as he heard the painful cry behind him. In his haste to beat the shit out of this deserving douche bag, Dean had completely forgotten that he hadn’t been alone.

The second biker was standing beside Sam, sporting a freshly swollen eye and a bloody nose. Obviously Sam had been a bit busy himself while Dean was over here defending his honor. However, Sam was currently standing with his hand flat on the pool table and a knife clearly keeping it in place.

The pain etched in Sam’s face had Dean’s blood boiling and his target was on this new guy’s head now. He was ready to make his move, positioned to attack in seconds before douche number two spoke up.

“Don’t move.” The man gripped the knife, twisting it slightly and watching Sam struggle with a sadistic smile on his face. 

Sam was doing his best to keep from giving this guy any satisfaction and while Dean was so damn proud of his boy, it was breaking his heart. He watched his brother try to stand as still as possible. Sam was biting his lip so hard, there was blood dripping down his chin. 

Dean took a small step forward, regretting it almost instantly. It felt like everything was moving in slow motion as he watched the son of a bitch kick in the back of Sam’s leg, forcing him to his knees and shifting the knife painfully in Sam’s hand.

Dean lost any shred of control he had. He rushed toward Sam, pulled his gun out at the same time and whipped it across that ugly face beside his brother. As much as Dean wanted to put a bullet in the guy’s head, he’d have to settle for the satisfying sound of another body hitting the floor.

Sam was trying to lift himself up, sweat dripping down his face and eyes becoming glassy. As Dean raced to Sam’s side, he stowed his gun and pulled the bandana from his pocket. Carefully, but quickly, he helped Sam up into a standing position and pulled the knife straight out of his brother’s hand without warning, cringing at the scream Sam tried so hard to hold back.

The sound of sirens approaching meant no time to be gentle. Sam’s face became pale and tremors wracked his brother’s body as he wrapped the bandana around the wounds and clapped Sam on the cheek. Their eyes locked for a moment, Sam’s full of pain but still completely trusting which caused Dean’s gut to twist. He locked his fingers with Sam’s, using them and his palm to keep pressure on Sam’s injured hand as he guided his brother out the back entrance and towards the car.

~~*~~

“Hang in there, Sammy,” Dean tightened his grip on the steering wheel as he glanced toward the passenger seat and wiggled his eyebrows. “We’ll get you fixed up and you’ll be putting that hand to good use in no time.”

His fear subsided the slightest bit when his comment earned him a patented bitch face. The moment didn’t last long, his worry rising once again when he noticed the bandana around Sam’s hand had grown dark and Sam’s face continued to lose color. This was bad.

“How ya feeling?” It was a stupid question and he knew it, but he needed to keep Sam talking and it was as good a place to start as any. 

“Wonderful, Dean,” Sam glared at him, holding up his injured hand as he spoke, “Just great.”

“You’ve had worse.” He kept his eyes ahead, refusing to look at his brother. “You’ve never been the greatest hustler. Maybe you should leave it to me from now on.”

“Yeah,” Sam held his hand to his chest and snorted, “‘Cause this is all my fault.”

“Well, why do you always attract creeps?”

“Why do you always have to get jealous?”

Dean’s head shot in Sam’s direction, but then quickly returned to the road before replying, “I wasn’t jealous!” He had simply been protecting his brother. There was nothing wrong with that. 

Out of the corner of his eye, Dean saw Sam turned toward him, eyebrows raised and lips tight. Okay, so maybe he was jealous. 

“He touched you.” It was a weak argument. “He shouldn’t have touched you.”

There was no more teasing or arguing. The car was quiet save for Sam’s heavy breathing and the soft music in the background. Dean split his focus between the road and Sam, watching for any visible change. 

Honestly, Dean didn’t even know where they were going. His only goal at the time was getting as far away from that bar as possible. They were heading toward the bunker, but he was mentally calculating the closest emergency room.

“Dean,” It was a quiet whisper, but it felt loud to Dean’s ears. “Something’s wrong.”

He was forced to pull the car over as his full attention was immediately on Sam. His brother held the injured hand out in front of him, staring at it with intense concentration.

“My hand is tingling.” Sam’s confession hit like a ton of bricks, but Dean did his best to keep his expression even. 

“You’re fine,” he lied. 

“I can’t move my fingers, Dean!”

He reached over and gently grabbed Sam’s injured hand, locking their fingers together. Sam stared at him with wide, tearful eyes. 

Dean whispered, “I got you, Sammy,” and rested their entwined hands atop Sam’s leg. He held tight, squeezing every so often just to get a reaction. He needed to know Sam was okay, at least for the time being. Still, Dean pushed his foot down on the gas and sped his way toward the ER.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I have to apologize that this took so long, but hopefully it is worth the wait!

Nerve damage. That was the final diagnosis. The doctors had of course asked a ton of questions and shared a lot of information. Most of it they already knew. The typical treatment for stab wounds and restrictions on activities. It was the nerve damage part that Dean wasn’t prepared for. 

They said Sam suffered lacerations to the nerve. There was a chance the nerve could fuse back together in time, but there was also a chance it could require surgery. Only time would tell. 

Of course, Sam spent most of their time in the ER trying to convince Dean that he was perfectly fine and that the doctors had to be wrong. Dean didn’t buy it for a second. They left with a bag full of prescription meds and a follow up appointment, which Dean actually planned on dragging Sam to this time. 

Until then, he was going to do what he could to take care of his brother. No matter how much Sam complained.

____

“I can do it myself!” Sam pushed Dean aside with his right hand as he held his left close to his body and lifted himself out of the car. 

He turned his body completely around and slammed the door closed, glaring at his brother as he walked past. It didn’t seem to faze Dean at all. Every step Sam took, Dean was right there, his hand now resting on Sam’s lower back.

As much as he wanted to continue arguing, Sam just didn’t have the energy and the support was actually helpful. He allowed Dean to guide him into the bunker and begrudgingly took a seat at the table when Dean pulled the chair out for him.

“I’m going to get you something to eat.” Dean squeezed his shoulders and Sam felt himself instantly relax, especially when those comforting fingers moved into his hair. 

It took him a few moments to comprehend, which he was almost certain was Dean’s plan. When the words finally processed, Sam tilted his head back and looked up at his brother, “‘m not hungry.”

“Sammy,” Dean pulled out the big brother tone so Sam shamelessly turned on the puppy dog eyes. 

“I just want to sleep, Dean.”

Dean’s fingers continued brushing through Sam’s hair, pausing a few seconds at the base of his skull. “I know,” he smiled and Sam melted further into the touch, “but you should take some meds before bed and you can’t do that on an empty stomach.”

“I can.” Sam argued even if he knew it sounded pathetic. 

“Okay, you can,” Dean bent over and placed a kiss atop Sam’s head, “but I won’t let you.”

When Dean finally walked away, heading off toward the kitchen, Sam lowered his head until it rested on the table. It wasn’t the most comfortable position, but maybe if he passed out before Dean returned, he’d magically wake up in a nice warm bed. It was wishful thinking. 

____  
Dean carried the plate over to the table, not at all surprised to find his brother fast asleep. He placed the food down gently and pulled the chair out beside Sam. It pained him to wake the younger man, but he’d nursed Sam often enough to know that food was not optional. 

“Hey,” he laid a hand on Sam’s shoulder and leaned in close. “Time to eat.”

Sam’s expression morphed from confused to annoyed almost instantly and made it impossible for Dean to hold back his laughter. Sam always reverted back to a petulant child when sick and even though he’d never admit it aloud, Dean loved it. 

“It’s only half,” Dean pointed to the sandwich in front of Sam. “Man up and eat the damn thing.”

“I’m not hungry.” Sam pushed the plate away and laid his head back down. 

Choosing to ignore Sam’s argument, Dean pulled the medication from his pocket, making a point to shake the bottle until he had Sam’s attention. He placed the medicine out of Sam’s reach and watched tired eyes follow the movement.

“Three bites,” he pointed to the sandwich and then the pills. “Before you can take those.”

“Fuck, Dean,” Sam drooped his head again, but Dean could still see his eyes his time. “Can’t you just leave me alone?”

“No,” he pushed the plate toward Sam. “Because I’m the one who has to hold your hair when you start vomiting.”

Dean didn’t even attempt to hide his victorious grin when Sam finally picked up the sandwich. Of course, Sam glared at him the whole time, purposely taking the tiniest bites and making even that look difficult. 

He kept his word, and after a few bites, Dean shook out the correct dosage and placed the pills on the table. Sam stared for a few seconds before finally picking them up, tossing the pills back without anything to drink. 

“Can I go to bed now, Mom?” 

Dean stood from his chair and pulled Sam up as well. He was a bit surprised when Sam leaned in and rested his head against Dean’s shoulder, but he wrapped his arms around his brother and held him for a long moment. When they finally pulled apart, Dean grabbed Sam’s hand and squeezed tightly as he led the way to their room. 

____

Sam woke up much earlier than he would have liked, but as the medicine began wearing off, sleep became more difficult. He tossed and turned for a while before he decided it was time to pull himself out of bed so that he wouldn’t disturb Dean. 

Of course Dean wasn’t exactly sleeping peacefully, and Sam knew that was because of him. It may have been Sam who was injured, but Dean was once again shouldering more of the burden than necessary. He leaned over and kissed Dean’s cheek, smiling when his brother mumbled something unintelligible before turning away from him.

“I’m gonna go make some breakfast.” He wasn’t expecting a reply, but he felt it necessary to explain anyway. 

Unfortunately, Sam was the worst cook. His specialty was pasta with premade marinara sauce and even then he had a habit of over cooking the noodles. Breakfast was one of the easiest meals though so he figured he could handle it. 

He figured wrong.

The few pieces of bacon that he had managed to fit on the frying pan were cooking much quicker than he prepared for and grease was flying everywhere. Then there were the eggs. He was pretty sure there weren’t supposed to be that many shells in the bowl. 

“Jesus, Sam,” Dean rushed into the kitchen and turned the burner down. “Are you trying to burn the bacon or the whole damn bunker?”

Sam lowered his head and made himself busy with removing the crispy bacon from the pan. He was peeling another slice of bacon from the package and preparing to place it on the pan, but Dean stopped him. 

“Why don’t you have a seat?” He gently pushed Sam’s hand away from the grease and Sam returned the gesture with a glare.

“No, I’m making breakfast.”

“You call that breakfast?” Dean nodded toward the burnt bacon and smiled. He put his arms around Sam’s waist and leaned in, his breath ghosting over Sam’s neck. “I got this, Sammy.”

“Knock it off, Dean.” Sam tried to shrug Dean off without moving away from the stove, but it didn’t work.

Dean held him tighter, “What’s the matter?” 

He turned his body, breaking Dean’s hold and pushed his brother back slightly. “I don’t need your help,” he complained.

“You don’t?”

“No.”

“Not even with this?” Dean took a step forward and Sam let out a gasp when his brother’s hand gently cupped his junk. “Seems like you need a bit of help here.”

“Maybe, with that.” Sam relaxed a bit, reaching out to steady himself as he leaned back. Breakfast may have to wait for a bit. 

He balanced himself with one hand as the other snaked its way up Dean’s arm and around the back of his head. Sam pulled Dean to him, their lips crashing together, tongues battling for control. Dean’s hand found its way to Sam’s hair and he moved impossibly closer as their kiss deepened. 

When they finally parted, Dean’s nose tilted up and he sniffed the air. Sam watched him with confusion, until he finally caught a whiff of what Dean was smelling. 

“What the fuck?” Dean pulled Sam away from the stove and quickly grabbed his hand. They both cringed at the sight of blistered skin.

“Shit,” Sam whispered, keeping his head down and his eyes on his hand.

“Christ, Sammy.” Dean pushed him over to the sink and forced his hand under warm water. “Did you not realize your hand was fucking burning?”

“I couldn’t feel it.” The admission seemed to stop Dean’s frantic movements for a second, but he was certain Dean had already figured that part out. Apparently saying it aloud made it too real.

“You can’t feel anything?” Within seconds, Dean was back into action. Sam watched him move around the kitchen, grabbing all the medical supplies he needed before ushering Sam toward the table. 

“Honestly,” Sam twitched a little when Dean began rubbing cream over the blisters. “I’m starting to feel some discomfort. It’s like I know it should hurt but I don’t feel the actual pain.”

“Well,” Dean finished dressing an additional wound on Sam’s already injured hand. “I guess that’s a silver lining.”

When Dean took a seat beside Sam and patted him on the knee, Sam couldn’t help but smile. They both knew it was a step in the right direction if Sam was still feeling even the slightest sensation in his hand. Despite sporting some new blisters, at least there was still hope for recovery. It would take some time to heal, but Sam knew he’d get there. Especially with Dean’s support. 

Sam nodded his head toward the stove with a smile, “You should probably finish cooking though.”

**Author's Note:**

> I am accepting requests for hurt!sam or hurt!jared fics to fill my Bad Things Happen Bingo board. You can find my board [HERE](https://dontknowmyname215.tumblr.com/post/185779816251/thank-you-badthingshappenbingo-im-so-excited-to). My tumblr account is @dontknowmyname215.


End file.
